


lightning in a bottle

by echotovalley



Series: fire and gold, lightning in a bottle [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echotovalley/pseuds/echotovalley
Summary: Keith had left the base camp to pitch his shack up in the middle of a nowhere desert that had nothing to offer but the nasty leftover grit of sand in Lance's mouth.- set in Lance's POV from episode 1, so he pronouns are used for Pidge





	1. hollow places

**Author's Note:**

> Keith had left the base camp to pitch his shack up in the middle of a nowhere desert that had nothing to offer but the nasty leftover grit of sand in Lance's mouth.
> 
> \- set in Lance's POV from episode 1, so he pronouns are used for Pidge

He doesn’t care.

He adamantly _does not_ care.

In fact, he’s angrily staring out the window of Keith’s freaky control center for conspiracy theories and watching as that stupid mullet walks up to Shiro because he _doesn’t_.

At all.

Care.

It wasn’t on Lance that Keith couldn’t cut it at the Garrison and dropped out of pilot class because of it. That point was made abundantly clear when he took over as leader of the Save Shiro mission, they had the rivalry and then, Keith was Splitsville so Lance was bumped from cargo pilot to major leagues piloting and it was _great._

It wasn’t on him that Keith had left the base camp to pitch his shack up in the middle of a nowhere desert that had nothing to offer but the nasty leftover grit of sand in his mouth.

And maybe he does kind of feel for the mopey loser, clearly the only person he could deem important enough for words was prisoner on an alien slave ship for a year, had his name dragged through the dirt for a failed mission gunked over in a seriously crappy coverup story, and more-or-less pronounced dead.

There were plenty of times he, Pidge, and Hunk needed breaks from each other to do their own things for a bit (mostly because he learned Pidge and Hunk were the worst wing men. _Ever_.), but they always came back around to hang a few hours or, at the most, a day later. It was hard to imagine going through his day without his teams’ quirky nuances or rambling chatter.

Now that Lance thinks about it, he had never been around an extended period of peace and quiet and where clearly Keith liked to wallow in angst-ridden silences. To each his own.

He can’t recall a time where siblings weren’t shoving him around or stugging his pant legs for his attention. Doesn’t know what it’s like not to have his mom sing along to the radio and have enough breath for the chorus and a windy lecture about how he’s not pulling his weight and she could think of at least twenty things for him to be doing other than lounging around with his headphones on with the volume up too loud for him to hear her speaking to him. But he doesn’t mind it so much.

The weird, hallow tension permeating the wood panels of the wall is eating at him. There’s not one damn thing in the place to suggest that a teenager with one helluva knack for flying lives here and not some cantankerous old guy that hates literally everything and would shuffle bitterly after you swinging a cane to get off his lawn.

Keith was an insufferable ass and he didn’t care.

“Why do you have that weird look on your face?”

Pidge’s sudden appearance at his side startles him enough that he flinches, his arms flying up to hit the corner of the window he’d been standing by. He catches Shiro and Kieth begin to turn toward the house and Lance quickly shoves himself and Pidge out of sight.

“What’s the matter with you, dude?! You don’t just sneak up on people and ask stuff like that. It’s rude!”

Pidge tips his head up at him innocently and mutters, “But you-”

Lance shoves his hands into his pockets and stomps his way toward the kitchen. “And I did _not_ have a weird look on my face.”

Because he doesn’t care.

He _adamantly_ doesn’t care.


	2. crawl space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully, months or days or hours in the desert with old professors pursuing them through the cliff sides and dunes looks the same on everyone when Coran leads them to the showers with more pomp and circumstance than needed. Dust lines the pockets of his jeans just like it’s spilling over in all of the pockets of Hunk’s shorts. Lance complains about it getting everywhere and how it will take ‘literal years’ to wash all of it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith POV, set right after the last chapter and they land on the Castle of Lions

Dust hangs in the air.

In his clothes.

Between the pages of his books.

Weighs on his tongue until it’s curling low and deep into his lungs until he feel like he can’t stand up all the way.

His glove smears it over the table when he tries to clear a spot to eat. The grit is something awful, but he swallows past it - adamantly not thinking about government issue meals slapped together on lunch trays that had long since paled. He reminded himself of the jokes - that everything from the mystery meat to the fruits and vegetables were a sham would probably rot out their insides before graduation. Definitely doesn’t waste his time on the asinine commissary system he’d managed to keep filled enough for the stray bag of chips or soda.

He groans and scratches the back of his head, and the damn stuff catches in his fingernails when he tries to shake it out of his hair. The inside lining of his boots a constant shift of dust and sand crunched in the soles and woven between the bare threads of his socks any time he stood.

The old bandana nothing but a grimy scrap of paisley.

It’s not the first time he’s had to adjust to a new definition for _getting by_ and it won’t be his last - yet hunkers down and weathers out one day after the next. The stray thought of the wind and sand eroding him away until there was nothing else to take. The walls of the shack would fall in with the gust and the hours upon hours upon hours upon hours he spent mapping and studying and tracing and documenting taken away somewhere far out from the garrison.

He’s tired.

He'll probably just become the notorious dropout case that was sorted into some sort of ridiculous tall tale that would paint his superiors as the senior officers that Tried Their Best.

It’s written plain as day on Lance’s face when they crash through the front door. The sharp look of an outsider that can’t fathom or understand someone living in this amount squalor. Drifting from one dust mote to another in the small living area, he ignores it. It’s usually easy to ignore it. Hunk (he’d heard Lance squawk the big guy’s name enough) none-too-gently claps him on his shoulder and offers to get him a glass of water for that cough and when he turns back from a rusted spigot that had gone bone dry a day or two ago, looking at Keith with empty eyes. Well, that one’s new for him, but he shrugs it off and clears his throat.

It’s not all that difficult to get lost in the shuffle when Shiro’s waking up with a full glass of water just out of reach.

But never the look he sees passing over the faces of their small friend (Pidge?) with the glasses or Shiro’s. There’s a seed of alliance in their hatred for the hallowed halls of the Galaxy Garrison and a familiar tilt in the chin when the world’s taken the best parts of you, then takes more than you have to give, and maybe - if you’re lucky - you’ll still have a few pieces to put back together and keep going another day.

The first one’s always the hardest, but not undo-able.

Beyond the haze of confusion and pain and panic, anger lights his mentor’s eyes; it makes the long scar jutting across his nose harsher and the white hair hanging over his brow brings out the stony glint in his eye. Shiro spits the name of the craggy commanding officer like acid.

They are two looks he cannot hide from, can’t deny because there’s dust in everything, in him, and it marks him on a radar he never wanted to fly on anyways.

* * *

Thankfully, months or days or hours in the desert with old professors pursuing them through the cliff sides and dunes looks the same on everyone when Coran leads them to the showers with more pomp and circumstance than needed. Dust lines the pockets of his jeans just like it’s spilling over in all of the pockets of Hunk’s shorts. Lance complains about it getting everywhere and how it will take _‘literal years’_ to wash all of it away.

He’s just glad to be off the ground, out of that crawling space.


	3. fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it totally matters.

_“It was an honor flying with you boys.”_

The words haunt him long after they’ve pulled from Zarkon’s claw machine beam, but his anger still boils and boils and boils until it’s overflowing by the time he slides from his lion and makes his way for Keith’s hangar.

Lance yanked his helmet off of his head and sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Pidge and brushing off Hunk’s hand that tried to still him. He wasn’t going to let them talk him down - wouldn’t risk that chance. He had words for the Garrison dropout and no force on Earth, Altea, or Arusa was going to stop him. Not even the sight of Shiro standing next to Keith, casually talking and nearly vibrating with the excitement of success, detoured him.

**_“Keith.”_ **

His voice sounded hoarse and he hated the way it breaks off, but at least the sound is angry and raw enough to make the other two paladins startle. Lance lifted his helmet and spiked it hard toward Keith’s chest.

In an effort to catch it, Keith dropped his own helmet and let it awkwardly bounce against the hard, metal floor.

Shiro stretched his arm out between them. “Lance!”

Keith wavered only for a moment before a light of fury sparked in his eyes. Lance was weirdly proud of it, Keith and the Red Lion had quick and raging tempers, but it took an equal force to shake them up and get them to lash out. With all of the forces they were suddenly acquainted with, it was _him_ that could easily get under Keith’s skin and cause such a reaction.

It served him right for forgetting that Lance was his rival at the Garrison.

“What’s your deal?” Keith’s eyes darkened as he threw Lance’s helmet back to him, with a force that would have normally winded Lance if he wasn’t bent on knocking Keith on his ass.

He didn’t answer, just tossed his helmet to the side and dove forward. Keith met him halfway. His feet slid as he tried to find purchase on the slick floors and pushed his weight back into Keith. Their knees knocked together as they fought for the upper hand. Keith lifted his foot and hooked it around Lance’s leg, trying to move fast enough to get the taller one of the two on the ground. His leg somehow managed not to cave like it did every time Shiro had them train together. In one moment, Lance had kept Keith held back with one arm just as he started to curl his hand into a fist when they were suddenly yanked away from each other.

The force rattled him as he crashed backward onto the floor, landing _hard_ \- derailed from his white, hot anger to see Shiro glaring down at him as he held Keith back. “We just managed to accomplish something great together for the first time. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Lance, but this isn’t how a team’s supposed to act.”

He narrowed his eyes and hissed, “Maybe you should talk to _him_ about how a team’s supposed to act.”

Keith was breathing hard as he struggled against Shiro. “How _I’m_ supposed to act?! You just tore down here to crack my skull open with your helmet, Lance. It wasn’t the other way around.”

Lance stood quickly, causing his blood to rush loudly in his ears. It made him a little nauseous after their fight, but he stamped the feeling down. “You were the only that pulled that ‘It’s been an honor flying with you boys’ crap. How’s that being a team player? Or do you just make it a habit to never see anything through?”

Shiro’s hand came up to Lance’s chest, the Galra metal of his arm scraping against his chest plate. “Lance, _that’s enough_.”

He looked down, suddenly nose to nose with Keith despite Shiro’s effort. Lance felt his anger finally snap, his words coiling deep in his belly before they lashed out in a voice he didn’t recognize. “You threw away your progress at the Garrison and you nearly pulled the same stunt here. Perfectly content with throwing your life away _like it doesn’t matter_.”

Footsteps coming from behind him echoed in his head in time to his pulse, but he refused look away, didn’t even blink because it would mean conceding some sort of defeat and he wasn’t about to lose another challenge to Keith. He felt more than saw someone charging forward from the group, the demanding click of Allura’s heels giving her away.

“Shiro, what’s the meaning of this?! What’s going on?”

If sense had come back to him even for a moment, he would have been mildly nervous about the powerhouse princess coming from his blindside.

“No, stay back. I’ve got this.” Shiro shook the two teens, but their eyes never strayed from each other. “You two have five minutes to sort this out and when I come back, nobody had better split anyone’s skull.”

Lance growled, “Fine.”

Keith bit out his words, straining against Shiro’s hold. “I’m not making any promises.”

_“Keith.”_

“Five minutes.” Shiro looked between them, slowly taking away his hands and watching them. Seemingly satisfied that they didn’t go for the others’ throat right off, the older man stepped away and turned on the rest of the team. “Pidge and Hunk, hit the showers. _Now._ ”

Lance’s entire body shook, his breaths ragged and thin as he heard Coran try to break the tension with some quip about relaxing. He nearly lunged forward again when Keith broke eye contact to look over Lance’s shoulder.

The second the door at the end of the corridor shut behind Shiro and Allura, Keith’s eyes were back on him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. “You want to tell me what your problem is? Not that I need a reason to kick your a-”

“You gave up!” Lance shoved Keith back a few steps. “We’re teenagers - we’re supposed to think we’re somehow immortal and that we can cheat death and that we can handle anything. How did you miss that memo?”

“Why does it bother you?! Everyone else was saying something similar, even Shiro. Why was _I_ different??”

“Because it’s _you_! You’re one of the best pilots of your age and you act like it’s nothing. You shuttle yourself out to the freaking desert living some stupid hermit crab half-life-”

“It’s not hermit _crab_ , you idiot, it’s just her-”

“That’s not the point!”

The point was that Keith’s voice had cracked when he said it and the quiet static the followed in Lance’s headset had been enough to make him sick. A definitive that Keith wouldn’t fight back - that he wasn’t going to because it wasn’t exactly a secret that Keith was a loner and didn’t bother to make any friends at the Garrison. Why he didn’t bother to remember Lance or anyone. Didn’t bother to really take note that his existence meant more than just being another soldier that took orders and still meant something more when he wouldn’t.

Lance’s vision swam again as swung his arms out, checking his wrist against Keith’s shoulder. “Shiro and everyone else have fought for something before _now_. You can’t just lay down and let stuff like that happen! Imagine someone back home having to get the letter that you weren’t coming back!”

“Are you serious right now?” Keith shoved Lance back a few steps and growled into the vaulted ceiling before following after Lance to swipe his legs out from under him. He stood over the other Paladin splayed out on the floor, reaching down after a minute to yank Lance up by the neck of his chest plate. “If you know so much about me or even tried to think about your words before they flew out of your big mouth, you’d get the picture that maybe that’s not the case for me. There isn’t anyone back on Earth to address that letter to or would feel even the slightest bit sad.”

Lance swore and dug his fingers into Keith’s hand, prying them off of his suit as he stood back up and pushed Keith back again. “That’s a lame excuse and you know it. And you’re just going to have to get used to some changes, drop out. You’re part of a team and team’s lookout for each other and I’m not about to let you act like some angst-ridden teenager that thinks he’s too cool for friends or goes around being indifferent to death. Not having anyone back home, isn’t on you, that’s their fault.”

Keith narrowed his eyes and huffed, “I don’t need your pity and if that’s all this conversation was going to be about, you have 30 seconds before I chuck your helmet into your skull.”

“Family isn’t just blood, y’know. For some people it’s everything but _that_. You’ve made your life and now you have to live with it, I don’t pity you.” Lance took a deep breath, the sound rattling in his chest as his mind tingled unpleasantly. He rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked back up, Keith shifted his weight, clearly waiting for another attack while Lance was probably dying.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not going to fight you, so you can stand like a normal human being again.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Lance sighed as he willed his knees not to give out under him (he probably should have gotten his head checked before coming after Keith, but dealing with a possible concussion was definitely on the back burner when he landed Blue). “Fair point.” 

Keith rolled his eyes and stepped up, curling his hand under Lance’s arm and gruffly pulling him up. “Next time you want to initiate stupid crap like this, make sure you’re not bleeding internally or something. If I’m going to kick your butt, it’s going to be fair and square.”

“Yeah, _ri-IGHT.”_ ” Lance tripped over his sluggish feet and yelped as he pitched forward.

A hand was curled around the cuff of his armor in the nick of time, lifting him away from the floor, then pushing him further down the hall. “The last thing we need is Shiro walking back in here to find your nose broken and blood all over the floor.” Keith sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

Lance laughed, coughing as his throat hitched. “Yeah, well, if that happens it means you’ll just have to face the fact that you’ve got four team mates and two super old aliens that care whether you’re around or not. Your lone wolf days are over.”

He saw Keith pause, only long enough for him to swallow thickly and for something else to flash in his eyes. Lance felt his mind lag for the first time in coming after Keith. The quiet that felt like five minutes passed for two second before he was back to being shoved through the doors and nearly into Shiro where he waited leaning against the wall.

“Next time, just say that instead of challenging me when you’re injured, genius.”


	4. cuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows this wouldn’t have been Shiro’s first choice.
> 
> Hunk would have been the first choice - Hunk was responsible, careful, and chided Lance in a timely manner while getting the job done.
> 
> Pidge behind him - they would work any angle they could to record the events and somehow get his picture or something and broadcast it over the universe-wide web, redefining viral.
> 
> And the very worst choice after Pidge just happened to be the volunteer.

He knows this wouldn’t have been Shiro’s first choice.

Hunk would have been the first choice - Hunk was responsible, careful, and chided Lance in a timely manner while getting the job done.

Pidge behind him - they would work any angle they could to record the events and somehow get his picture or something and broadcast it over the universe-wide web, redefining _viral_.

And the very worst choice after Pidge just happened to be the _volunteer._

Lance loosens his arms and lets his shoulders go slack, his stomach flattening out for a stitch in his side. The blue paladin’s forehead presses back again into the cool, cruel, and unforgiving earth...Soil? Land.

An alien land where he got played by an alien girl that was alien attractive who then, used alien handcuffs to anchor him to an alien tree and proceeded to alien take off with his own personal, awesome alien warship shaped like an alien lion.

He groans and tries again to extend his leg out long enough to kick Keith - who has remained immobile, bent over, hands-on-knees, and wheezing from laughing. Muttering under his breath, he hollers in the direction his helmet lay and demands anyone, maybe even Zarkon himself, to come there right this second.

Anyone else would have freed him when they first arrived _ten minutes ago_.

Zarkon would have kicked Keith’s ass within the first _ten seconds_ after he arrived.

“Ya here that, Zarkon? I triple dog dare you to come to planet SIEVI, northwest of Balmera X-95-Vox, coordinates at-”

Static cuts through his transmission before he can finish, a monotone, _“Lance, no,”_ cutting through the radio fuzz.

“Aha! So, you guys _are_ there! I’m requesting backup....and to borrow Pidge’s bayard.”

 _“That won’t be possible, Lance. A paladin’s bayard is unique to its wielder and lion, if someone other than themselves handled it, the consequences could be costly.”_ Allura’s voice turns from business-as-usual to what had since been termed the Lance Tone _. “I don’t think it would be wise for you to withstand another shock from Pidge’s bayard.”_

“Ooookay, then, Pidge, can _Keith_ borrow your bayard?”

Shiro cuts back in with a long suffering groan. _“No one’s borrowing anyone’s bayard and no one is going to purposely harm one of their team mates.”_

“So, if it was an accident?”

_“No, Lance.”_

He shimmies his way back into a standing position when it becomes apparent his ribcage isn’t going to stop pulsing in _pain_. Kicks his foot in the dirt toward Keith, a halfhearted cloud forming in front of him. “You’re the worst and I hate you. I could be injured right now and you’re there. Useless as ever.”

Keith’s laughter cuts off with a hoarse cough, only to start back up again when he looks back up at Lance. “You were bound to wind up like this somehow. I’m just surprised she let you keep your gear, let alone your pants.”

_“What’s that supposed to mean?!”_

The red paladin clears his throat, taking off his helmet and standing back up straight. “It means, lady slayer, that your impulse control - or lack thereof - is going to get you into these situations and we’re all just surprised it was _only_ the lion she took.”

Lance rotates his way around the tree to face Keith. “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating.”

“Enlighten me, Lance. What am I insinuating.” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and attempts a challenging look, only for it to crumble a moment later as he doubles back over to laugh - his voice an octave or two deeper from battle.

_“Keith, Lance. That’s enough. Let’s give it a rest and get you guys back to the castle. And Lance?”_

Keith chokes on barely held back laughter, completely losing his voice as his knees sink onto the ground. Lance rotates himself back around the tree and swings his leg out in one more attempt to kick Keith in _his stupid face_. _  
_

_“Lance.”  
_

“Yes, I’m here.” He curses under his breath so Shiro can’t hear and in a language Keith doesn’t understand.

_“We’ll talk about this later.”_

Lance allows his head to fall forward against the rough exterior of the tree, dropping it there repeatedly. Keith pulls himself up and makes his way to the tree, unsheathing his bayard in an arc of light.

“No. No, no, no, n- I would rather rot here than let you near me with that. _No_.”

Keith swings the blade in his hands, leveling it in the air to point toward the link of the handcuffs. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. I’m not going to miss, unlike you, I actually train.”

Lance shakes his head and jerks against the restraint of the cuffs. “ _Oh_ , I’m definitely not a baby because _I wasn’t born yesterday, Keith_. Get that thing away from me.”

The red paladin shrugs indifferently and turns back for his lion. “Then I guess you’re just stuck there.” He waves a hand over his shoulder. “Later.”

“No, wait!” Lance bites his tongue when Keith stops and glances back over his shoulder. He may have won the battle, but that stupid mullet was not about to win the war. “ _Fine_ , but if you slice off one of my arms, I’m going to beat you with it.”

Keith laughs, wasting no time to walk back. He easily cuts through the cuffs with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I know you’re really disappointed you didn’t get to beat be with your arm, but I think you’ll be able to work past it.” He picks up a piece of the cuffs, tossing it the air before catching it and pocketing it in his suit. “Souvenir for your space wall of shame. Maybe we’ll even tape it to the fridge beside Hunk’s recipe list and Pidge’s Voltron sketch.“

Lance curses a streak under his breath, rubbing his wrists before stepping away from the tree or whatever the heck it was. His first step is a failure as he careens for the ground. He never plans on admitting in one thousand and one years that Keith’s reflexes are pretty decent and that he’s thankful the idiot manages to catch him.

“Easy there, tiger.” Keith ducks under Lance’s arm, draping it around his shoulders and supporting his weight with an arm around his waist. He bends down and grabs Lance’s helmet with his free hand. “So Lance, did we learn anything today?”

Lance groans and shuffles forward, his legs like jelly. _“Shut up.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Previously separated oneshots uploaded here but are being reuploaded as a single story for clean-up purposes.


End file.
